Dig?

I got a small assignment a few days ago, writing a website for a small therapeutic group that helps adolescents and young adults deal with substance abuse problems. My guess going into the assignment is that most people this side of Ozzie and Harriet have had, or know someone who's had, run-ins with some kind of addiction--whether it's alcohol, drugs, a combination of things or even digital devices.

If you're going to accept an assignment on such a serious topic, you can't phone it in. We hear a lot about "craft," these days, though in my first 35 years of working, I never heard it at all. Craft begins with dedication. Caring. Not phoning it in. 

If you're working on a treatment center, you have to assume that the people who go to such centers and the people who work in them are saving lives. And that there are plenty of lives that need saving. That's important work. Craft is rising to that occasion in all you do.

As you might guess, I looked at the sites of half a dozen "competitive" places. I found exactly what you'd expect. Stale language devoid of credibility. "We are patient-centered and are dedicated to putting the needs of our clients first."

There's nothing innately wrong with those words. Except they're meaningless and everyone uses them. 

Such nondescript locutions are everywhere in marketing communications today. 

Every steakhouse offers "exquisite cuts of prime beef, impeccable service, and an unforgettable dining experience that transcends expectations." Every cruise line says "Cruise to unforgettable destinations and start your dream vacation with a cruise you'll never forget." Every automaker promises to let you "own the ride," with an "electrifying experience." Every ad agency promises to "harness the power of technology putting you at the intersection of creativity and culture."

In fact, bad writing as above is actually built into our industry.

When you have an hour or two to work on a brand, you don't know the brand. You default to clichés. You practically have no choice. And face it, you're more likely to be fired for going out-of-scope than you are for producing drivel.

When I work with clients, I usually take a few hours to interview people who work at the client or actual customers. I create a list of questions to try to look under the hood of how and where they work. I try to interview little people with metaphorical ink on their hands, all the way up to the big bosses. Often I ask them to send me a picture of a talisman, or something they carry with them in their jobs. It helps get to who they are. The same way you look at the bookshelves in someone's apartment, it tells you something about them.

This is an attempt to be forensic about writing. Incisive. To get away from what's expected and get to something realer and truer. I explain to the people involved that my job isn't to write beautiful-sounding words, it's to find truth.

I interviewed about seven people at this center. I don't like interviewing people. It rubs against my misanthropic grain.

However, one man, someone even older than I, told me a story.

When he meets a group of people suffering from substance abuse, he reaches into a suitcase he carries with him. He pulls out of his suitcase a bear-trap with a mannikin's leg trapped in its razor-sharp metal teeth.

This is you, he says to the users.

You're trapped, he says to the users.

We're going to get you out of this, he says to the users.

That's good writing.

In effect, the man wrote my copy for me.

All I did was clean things up a bit.

But not too much.